Finding myself writing more privately in my journal than wanting to publicize every thought through WordPress, I’m wondering where to draw the line.
Like do I mention the image I woke with this morning? The one that came as a bird’s-eye view while I sifted in that space just between sleeping and waking.
It was a big sky place, like Wyoming. Cotton clouds in wide open blue. An ariel view of the back of a pick up truck. Half of the truck bed was stacked with fresh-cut wood. And resting just beside the pile were legs, one bent at the knee, reclining freely in black, fishnet stockings.
This may be more information than anyone needs to know. Freud is dead but I suppose here’s a time where one could conjure his analysis. But let’s forget that.
The beauty of art is to let go of the mind. Play in the realms where nothing makes sense. Tap this source of possibility. Enjoy the mysterious confusion.
Why not start the day with a picture of infinite sky, a well-stocked supply of wood and beautiful legs naturally taking in the scene?
What the heck. Why not tell you about it?
